Breaking the Habit
by FoREVer Nightwing
Summary: "He thinks I'm pathetic… everyone does." Inspired by "Breaking the Habit" by Linkin Park. Warnings: angst, self-harm, attempted suicide. Rated M to be safe.


**A/N: Inspired by _Breaking the Habit_ by Linkin Park. Lyrics have been removed from this version. See my Quotev account for the full version.**

**I'm gonna warn you now. Angst, self-harm (not in great detail), and attempted suicide.**

**I made this M-rated to be safe. If you guys think I should go down to T, please let me know.**

* * *

**Breaking the Habit**

It all started with an argument with Wally.

A bad one, too.

"Dude, what's your problem? Why'd you pull your punches?" he screamed at me.

"I don't have a problem, Kid Mouth! And it's none of your business, anyway!" I yelled back.

"Sure, just like everything else! We only know your name as a hero, and that you live in Gotham! We don't even know your real name!"

"It's not like I don't want to tell any of you that stuff! It's just that-"

"Daddy Bats is paranoid and doesn't trust any of us!"

"No, it's not like that-"

Wally sneered. "Right! So, if Bats wasn't stopping you, you'd tell us?"

"It's none of your business, Wally!" I growled.

"Dude, you're letting your feelings get in the way! You're pathetic! I'm pretty sure Batman would think you're worthless for doing that!"

"Wally!" M'gann said.

"It's true!" Wally said, "We all know it's-"

I cut him off with a punch to his gut, and another to his face. He was coughing, gasping for air.

"You son of a bitch!" I yell. I'm about to punch him again, but I feel Kaldur put his hand on my shoulder.

"That was not necessary, Robin." He said, "Wally, you went too far."

"At least I have the guts to say what everyone else is thinking!" Wally spat.

Before anyone could say anything, I left the room.

* * *

I can't blame Wally for getting mad at me for pulling my punches. I shouldn't let my emotions get in the way when I'm fighting.

What really hurt was what he said.

_Dude, you're letting your feelings get in the way! You're pathetic! I'm pretty sure Batman would think you're worthless for doing that!_

I'm sure Bruce and Alfred would say otherwise… but, for some reason, I thought Wally was right.

I **did** feel pathetic.

I **did** feel worthless.

* * *

Once I was sure everyone was asleep, I snuck out of my room and got a knife from the kitchen.

Nobody would notice. The knifes disappeared all the time.

I came back into my room and sat back down on my bed. I swallowed hard.

I looked at the knife.

I took the knife and made a small cut into my arm, not deep enough to make the wound fatal, but enough for blood to seep out.

Slowly, I carved into my arm until the scars spelled out a word.

_Worthless._

* * *

I didn't mean for it to become this bad.

A found myself making a new scar once or twice a week.

Then, three times.

Every day.

It became some sick habit.

Make a new cut every day.

Make them small, unnoticeable.

I always did this in my bathroom or at Mount Justice.

I made sure to hide everything- the knife, the scars, the blood.

If someone asked, I'd say it was from a fight, or a bully at school.

I could tell Bruce was becoming suspicious… but he didn't ask, which was both a good thing and a bad thing.

* * *

Things started to get better.

Wally and I didn't argue as much, and we'd apologize after and of the arguments we did have after we cooled down.

My habit had slowly died down.

The cuts slowly became smaller and lighter.

The smaller cuts healed. The larger ones made very faint scars.

And, for a while, I stopped.

* * *

It wasn't until six months later I started back with the habit.

And this time, it was worse than it ever was.

I was fighting Two Face.

Alone.

And I made the mistake of playing his game.

Again.

I wasn't beaten to shit like last time… but I didn't follow orders.

"Pathetic! I told you not to play his game, and what do you do?" Bruce shouted at me, "You went against my orders! Again! Don't you remember last time you played his game? A man was murdered and you were almost beaten to death!"

"Hey, if I hadn't played his goddamn game, you'd be dead!" I yelled.

"Even so, you are not to disobey orders."

"Is obeying orders really worth losing your life over?"

"Dick, you have to understand. You can't let your emotions get in the way."

I snorted. "Is that why you almost killed the Joker? Is that why you almost threw Jason into the Lazarus pit? Even the Batman can't live without emotions."

Bruce muttered something under his breath. I'm sure he didn't think I heard it… but I did.

_Pathetic._

* * *

Didn't hesitate to cut a little deeper into my arm.

I felt tears stinging in my eyes.

_He thinks I'm pathetic… everyone does._

I struggled to hold them back.

_Nobody cares._

I let them go.

_I am pathetic… worthless._

I sobbed softly, not wanting anyone to see.

* * *

It got worse from there.

Wally and I started arguing again.

Bruce and I started to argue more.

The students at Gotham Academy were worse than they used to be.

My grades started to slip.

I even made mistakes frequently when I patrolled with Batman.

* * *

One night, I was sitting in my room, staring out the window.

Next to me was a knife and a bottle of pills.

I've thought about this several times that week.

Continue cutting… or end the suffering now.

So far, I've tried to convince myself that it'd get better, that everything would be alright.

No such luck.

Tonight, I decided, I'd end it.

I was about to do it.

Then I heard a knock at the door.

I decided to ignore it.

"Dick! Open the door!"

Bruce.

"I need to talk to you."

I opened the pill bottle.

_No one will miss me…_

"Dick, if you don't open this door, I'll break it down."

I swallowed the first pill.

"Three…"

Second.

"Two…"

I was about to swallow the third pill… but Bruce did what he said he would and knocked the door down.

The second he saw the pill bottle, he took it away.

"Dick…" he said. I could hear the disappointment in his voice.

"Why?"

I showed him the scars on my arms.

"He looked at them. Dick… you could have told me."

Tears stung in my eyes again. I sobbed.

Bruce pulled me into a hug. "Shh… it's okay, now…"

* * *

From then on, I worked with Bruce to break my habit.

For good, this time.

"There's no shame in talking about it, Dick." He said, "Nobody thinks any less of you."

I found other ways to vent. Writing, mostly, but it did help me break the habit.

Now, things have gotten better. And, maybe this time, it'll stay that way.


End file.
